


Inside

by exactly13percent (superagentwolf)



Series: The AU Court [5]
Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Canon Compliant, M/M, Missing Scene, Short One Shot, Soft Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard, The Raven King - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-02
Updated: 2018-07-02
Packaged: 2019-06-01 09:35:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15140243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/superagentwolf/pseuds/exactly13percent
Summary: Andreil Week 2018|Day 2: Rain, Bare Skin, Broken Glass-While Neil waits for the end, he never stops.Until one day it rains, and he finds himself giving in to the way Andrew feels in bed next to him and the comfort of his warmth.





	Inside

**Author's Note:**

> well, it looks like i fucked up and switched day 2 and 3  
> well

It is absolutely pouring.

Sometimes, when it’s this cold, Neil is tempted to crawl into bed and never come out. Sometimes, Andrew looks at him like he’s saying to do it. Andrew never says anything when Neil can’t, though. He is just quiet, and he waits for Neil to come back from his morning run.

Today, Neil lies in bed and stares out the window. There is a creeping chill in his soul.

He usually goes to class. It gives him something to focus on, besides the days he counts down and premonitions of the future.

The end.

Neil looks out the window and feels oddly bleak. Matt is already gone; the bedroom is empty. Neil pulls his sheets up to his neck and stares at the far wall; he lets it bleed through everything. Eventually, something must pull him down, because he falls asleep.

He wakes only because he feels something on his shoulder—a solid weight—and he comes up breathless. Neil gasps, sucks in a breath, nearly throws himself toward the wall.

Andrew just stares at him. A tiny crack graces the surface of his disinterested expression. Neil breathes in and out. He runs through his mantra, _breathe_ and _stay alive_ looping through his fuzzy mind. He looks for a clock and remembers he doesn’t have one. “What time is it?”

“You didn’t go to class,” Andrew says instead. He stares, intent. Neil licks his lips; notices Andrew track the movement. Neil’s heart thuds once, painful, like the low thunder rolling through the sky outside.

“No.”

Andrew inches forward. It might be difficult for him, or he might be acting difficult. These days, there’s a difference. Neil waits for it to play out. He watches the pale hand come up to his cheek and shivers reflexively, but Andrew’s hand isn’t cold. It’s warm. Oddly warm, like he was sitting on it. Neil closes his eyes. He asks, “Why aren’t you at class?”

He feels Andrew’s shrug. It’s a barely-noticeable tremor through his arm. Neil nods, once. He isn’t about to think that Andrew came looking for him, but…

…but.

“Do you want some tea? Or…something?” Neil finally asks. He knows he should leave his bed, but the sheets are warm on his body.

They hide the scars, too.

Andrew looks back over his shoulder. He pads toward the door, socks scuffing softly. Neil is ready to follow, but then Andrew shuts the door and comes back. He looks down at Neil and his fingers unconsciously lift to the mattress. There’s a tiny line between his eyebrows, but no other sign of worry or trepidation.

Neil hesitates. He’s not sure how to say it, but he decides it’s best to just let it out. “Lie next to me?”

“Yes.”

Andrew pauses, then carefully rest his hand over Neil’s stomach. There is nothing suggestive about the touch; just…inquisitive. Neil is still. Andrew folds the hem of Neil’s shirt up a little and then waits. Neil pulls it off, bent over as the material hikes over his skin. Andrew looks on with that little spark—the tiny thought in his eyes, which Neil has come to identify as care.

They’re not quite close enough to love yet, but that’s fine.

Andrew pulls his shirt off in one fluid motion; he treats the action with disinterest and slides into bed with Neil, keeping a hand’s distance between them.

There’s a little waiting period. Neil is content to use it to watch Andrew; he looks over the pale lashes, the curve of his lower lip, the mingled colors in his forest eyes. He looks and looks and wishes he had a way to paint Andrew into his memory, so this could be the last thing he sees. So he could see this over and over.

Andrew reaches out and pokes Neil’s cheek with a finger, a weak attempt to make him look away. It’s just a touch, but Neil still feels a flush rising to his face. He doesn’t want to react so intensely—

—or maybe he does—

—so Neil just closes his eyes and inhales. He breathes once, twice, three times. When he opens his eyes again, Andrew is closer.

“I should get up,” Neil says. He finds his gaze drawn down Andrew’s face again and he closes his eyes. He doesn’t want to be like this. Why is he doing this? He probably shouldn’t have asked Andrew in, but—

“Yes or no,” Andrew says. His breath is hot across Neil’s face.

“Yes.”

Neil is sure he tastes bad—he just woke up—but Andrew doesn’t say anything. He just kisses Neil, quiet and certain. It’s warm; warmer than Neil anticipated. He feels like he’s burning a little.

Neil likes the way he feels Andrew’s nose brushes against his. He likes the hand resting on his hip, over the sheets.

He likes Andrew.

He says as much and Andrew huffs. “I couldn’t tell.”

“You like me, too,” Neil says, soft. He thinks it’s a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. Andrew pokes his cheek again.

Neil rests his forehead against Andrew’s and breathes. He lets in the air—Andrew’s soap, the laundry detergent in the sheets, the faint smell of rain from where the window is cracked—and lets out everything else. There are no numbers in their bed. There is no time. Just them, and the breath they share.

He falls asleep again, but this time, it feels less like a void and more like peace.

* * *

He wakes up again because of the lightning. Neil stifles a yawn and looks over Andrew’s head, toward the window. The flashes across the sky are joined by cracks and rumbles. He burrows a little deeper under the covers and fishes with one hand for his phone. They still have two hours until practice.

“Stop moving,” Andrew says. Neil looks down, surprised. Andrew’s eyes are still closed. Neil smiles a little and inches closer.

Most of the time, Neil just likes to look at Andrew. He is content not kissing all the time—even if Andrew teases him about being weak for kisses. He is, but that’s not the point.

The point is, Neil would be happy just being allowed close enough to look at Andrew. He’d be happy just being able to live near him, to watch Andrew make his way into the sun. Neil would be happy just to see the way the sun illuminates Andrew’s face.

Andrew opens his eyes like he can sense the gaze resting on him. His gaze narrows; his hand finds Neil’s chin and he pokes it with a finger. “Quit it.”

Neil knows he’s smiling. He can’t stop it. “What?”

“Looking at me like that.”

“I don’t know if I can,” Neil says. He closes his eyes instead and hears Andrew grumble. He bites his lip to keep a laugh inside. Andrew pokes at his cheeks, requesting. Neil opens his eyes again.

“Tea,” Andrew says, but the words are mumbled across Neil’s mouth and then they’re gone. Neil swallows them. He wonders at the bitterness of sleep and the warmth of Andrew’s lips.

Neil only moves away for a second to mutter, “My name is Neil.”

Andrew bites his lip just for that, but of course, it’s not harsh. It’s actually the opposite of a punishment. Neil anchors himself with a hand on Andrew’s cheek and wonders why he enjoys kissing Andrew so much. It might be because Andrew is warm. It might be because he puts so much effort into it that rarely shows anywhere else.

It’s definitely at least the way Andrew’s tongue slides along his lip to soothe the redness from the bite.

Neil hears voices in the hall. They’re not Foxes, so he doesn’t care, but Andrew does. Andrew pulls back and the light is in his eyes again—the betrayal of something more than just moving through life. The spark of care. He isn’t just amused by Neil, anymore.

“Tea,” Andrew repeats. Neil doesn’t move his hand for a long minute; he traces a number on Andrew’s skin and watches him shiver.

It takes a lot of effort for Neil to pull his hand back. “Sure.”

Neil goes to the kitchen first and starts boiling water. He hears movement behind him—Andrew looking for mugs—and then there’s a crash.

The sound is sharp and it breaks the perfect stillness. Neil feels it deeper than the thunder and lightning outside. He feels the gut reaction of utter terror; the remembrance of a man tossing things to the ground—

—and then Neil turns to look.

Andrew stares down at the broken glass. It landed on the floor, so he’s nowhere near it. He’s kneeling on the counter, one hand still stretched toward the top shelf of the cabinets.

“Don’t move,” Neil says. Andrew turns like he’s going to say something, but Neil repeats, “Don’t. Move.”

It’s not that serious. It’s not, but Neil has very clear knowledge of what broken glass feels like. What it feels like to crawl over it, hands and knees, scrabbling and desperate. Not running away, but running to. Trying to make it to Mary while Nathan loomed over his shoulder.

He never did reach her.

Neil packs the memory away with every swipe of the broom. He collects the broken glass and finds two bags to pour it into, then shoves it into the trash can. When he returns to the kitchen, he finds Andrew sitting on the counter with his legs dangling over the edge.

Andrew doesn’t say anything. He watches Neil come up to him and watches the pause. “Can—” Neil starts to ask, and before he finishes, Andrew pulls him in.

It’s odd to hug Andrew at this angle, where Andrew is just a little taller. He likes the way it works, with his face buried in Andrew’s neck. Neil reminds himself with the arms around him that this is safe. He is safe, just for a little while.

“The water is boiling,” Andrew says. Neil blinks and moves back, surprised. When he looks over his shoulder, it definitely is.

Neil shrugs. “We’ll have to wait a little while.”

“Fine.”

The word is said without annoyance or impatience. Neil takes the mugs from Andrew and turns back to the pot. He drops the tea bags in and fills the mugs with water before covering them with upside-down plates. He returns to Andrew after that and Andrew lets him close again—except this time, Andrew guides his face closer.

Just a kiss. Just one, then two, then more.

Neil wouldn’t mind staying until practice, but then the lock on the front door starts to jiggle and Andrew motions for Neil to move. Neil steps back enough for Andrew to slide off the counter and move the plates. He tosses the tea bags into the sink like he’s done this a thousand times.

Matt comes in and grins when he sees Neil, but his smile wavers when he notices Andrew. “Uh…you…feeling okay? You didn’t go to class, this morning.”

“I’m fine,” Neil says. He can feel Andrew glaring at him, so he amends, “Just tired. Sleeping in helped.”

“Okay,” Matt says. His relief is suddenly replaced with an uncertain cough and then he looks away. “You, uh…should probably get dressed, though. Don’t catch a cold.”

Shit.

Neil looks down at his bare chest and is glad that Matt didn’t really look. He is also very aware of how stupid he was to forget—but a glance at Andrew tells him he wasn’t the only one. Andrew is also very half-dressed.

“Yeah. I will,” Neil says. “Thanks.”

Matt nods and dumps his backpack on the couch before he turns to leave. Neil is silently grateful for the space. He knows Matt is probably off to eat or find Dan, but it’s good to have a few minutes to dress and order himself.

“Drink,” Andrew says, sudden. Neil blinks and stares at the mug held at his elbow. He cautiously takes it and notices it’s cooler. It probably won’t burn him.

He takes a sip and looks to the window. It’s still raining outside, but the storm doesn’t bother him. It might even be nice, he thinks. If rain means sleeping in and drinking tea—if rain means Andrew’s kisses and arms around his chest—it’s not that bad.

He hopes there are more rainy days, before his time is up. He wishes they would never end.


End file.
